A Lion's Heart
by Cyny
Summary: Jaina lived her entire life without her father, and she thought she was content... but it only takes one day to shake her whole world. When she stumbles upon a mystery, she won't stop until she finds the truth. *4 up at last!* R/R Please and thanks!
1. Prologue

The night was silent, dark, and perfectly still.  In the hot summer air, ever leaf and blade of grass that happened to move seemed very out of place and quite conspicuous.  Still, the dark shape on an owl growing ever nearer to the abandoned-looking house was hardly noticeable.  

Even the lookouts, jumping at a slight breeze that rattled the leaves and straining to see the insect that flattened a piece of grass, did not see the approaching owl.  It is likely that –even had they seen it – the owl would not cause them any alarm, for the forest was full of them.  Perhaps the stone clutched in the talons of the bird would, too, have been overlooked.  The guards were not great owl-studiers; nothing short of an entire house in its clasp would have raised their suspicions.  But they saw nothing at all, save the movements of sporadic lightning bugs on the lawn and a few courageous squirrels venturing out of the shadows of the trees.

Once it was upon the house, the owl with its stone glided down into a tree that overhung the rear porch.  Landing on a low, large branch, it took special care to make sure the smooth green stone did not fall beyond its reach.  And then the owl suddenly became a woman wearing long, black robes and curly brown hair tied back.  She grinned at the stone for a moment and then carefully surveyed her surroundings before reaching inside her robes.  Delicately, she removed a wand, which she pointed at the stone.  Her grin grew wider as she was looking now at a dark-haired young man.  He returned a smile, adjusted his glasses, and pushed his hair off his forehead.

"We've arrived then?" he whispered quietly.

She nodded slowly, looking anxious for the first time.

He offered an encouraging sort of smile.  "Just think, after this I'll go back to Quidditch, and you'll have every department in the Ministry fighting over you plus the job Dumbledore wants you to have.  We'll go back to our quiet home and our normal life together."

She still looked worried but voiced with steady determination, "We're covered all the way up to the house."

"All right.  We'd best get on with it then."  He didn't move to climb down the tree, however, but instead took her hands in his own.  "It'll be all right, Hermione," he spoke fervently.  "It's over tonight."  

Then he lowered himself to the ground and helped her down from the bough.  Removing his own wand from the depths of his robes, he sighed and turned to face the house, the last stronghold of the supporters of Voldemort.  He steeled himself to take the first step, when Hermione grabbed the back of his robes.

"Wait!" she cried in a nearly silent voice.  He stopped and turned back to her.  She was holding out her wedding ring in a trembling hand.  Sliding it onto the chain around his neck and refastening it, he watched her take several deep breaths.  He slid his own band onto her thumb and on impulse, leaned down and kissed her.  

"I-I love you Harry," she breathed into his ear still bent down to her level.

"I love you too," he breathed, and they both moved towards the back door under the shadow of the giant tree they had been in moments earlier.  Still, neither made hardly a sound or a dent in the grass.

With a grim expression, both reached the door.  Not bothering to test the knob, Harry pointed his wand and whispered, "Alohomora."  

The hinges were surprisingly well oiled and the door swung into the house without a creak.  The floorboards did not groan beneath their weight, and Harry couldn't help but wonder amusedly that the last group to fall couldn't even find a proper old house to hide in.  They reached the top of the stairs without being discovered, but both knew that soon everyone would know of their presence.  Walking up an unguarded corridor, Harry felt his heart beginning to pound; Hermione was trembling again.  He gripped his wand more tightly yet and saw his wife raise hers and the look in her eyes told him that she was mentally reviewing counter-curses and charms.  

"Alohomora."

This door squealed as it opened, and two surprised guards stood staring, mouths agape, at Harry and Hermione.  

"Expelliarmus!" the Aurors shouted together.  The lookouts' wands flew into the air, but before they could dismay at this development, they were stunned and bound.

Harry pushed his sleeves up.  "They're in the next room," he muttered.  

They strode to the door, but before Harry had spoken the charm to open the door, it burst open.  Simultaneously, at least ten streaks of red light barreled towards them, but Hermione had been prepared with a shield charm.  The moment the last had deflected, she lowered her wand and the couple burst into the room, dodging curses and managing a few of their own during breaks in the cursing, which seemed to happen all at once.  

Harry was sure that they were winning the battle.  Fewer and fewer red lights came flying at him until there were only two, then one, then he was stupefying the last wizard.  Hermione stood at his back, perspiring but looking unhurt.

Without warning, Harry's insides went cold.  The door on the other side of the room opened, but for a moment, he could not see into the next room.  But he didn't need to; he knew already.

"Dementors," he told Hermione exactly as she told him the same.

He didn't wait to hear the screams of his mother or the high cold voice of Lord Voldemort in his mind.  Harry bellowed, "Expecto Patronum!!!"  The stag Prongs galloped from the end of his wand.

He heard Hermione whisper, "our wedding" a moment before she too cried, "Expecto Patronum!" and a bolt of lightning issued from her wand, charging behind the stag and driving away the dementors.  

The room was totally silent for several minutes as both stood panting.  Hermione then collapsed into Harry's arms, laughing with relief.  He moved to wrap his arms around her but was slammed into a wall.

Hermione gasped.  Rising from the floor next to his fallen companions was a single robed figure.

"I believe, Mr. Potter," he said icily, "that you only _thought_ you'd stupefied me.  Your mistake, but now I shall kill you both.  Her first…"

His hood fell as he turned to point his wand at Hermione; Harry saw the unmistakable face of Lucius Malfoy, more powerful looking than he'd ever remembered the man.           

"Bloody meddlers, all of you," he muttered.

This comment gave Harry time to act, and his banishing charm was drowned out by the evil shout, "Avada Kedavra!"  It was nonetheless effective as Hermione flew out of the way of the killer green light and landed in a heap on the floor.  Undaunted, Malfoy hurled a curse in Harry's direction.  He shielded himself, and beckoned his wife to enter into the safety of it.  She waited behind the strong, unwavering protection for a pause in the curses during which she could end the battle, but before the perfect moment came, all hell broke loose.  

Malfoy's backups – the elder Crabbe and Goyle and the Lestranges – filed out of the adjacent room, grinning sinisterly.  With the combined power of their curses, holding up the shield became nearly an impossible task.  

Harry knew what he must do.  "The first group were decoys," he grunted.  "We can't survive this onslaught and they know it."

Hermione saw her husband fighting to hold his wand steady.  His face had gone deathly pale, the lightning bolt scar stood out brightly against it.  

"When I say so, I'm going to make the shield bigger.  It'll give you a minute to run out, change and fly away.  I know what I have to do."      

She opened her mouth in protest.

"I'll disapparate when I've destroyed the magic surrounding the house," he told her.  

"You've got to do as I say."

Hermione nodded.  "I'll meet you back at Dumbledore's.  I love you, Harry."

She'd hardly finished when he screamed, "NOW!"

The shield Harry had created now filled nearly the entire room.  His wife dashed back up the hallway, down the stairs, through the house, and out the back door.  She transformed into the tawny owl and flew as fast as her wings could carry her.  Hermione didn't look back, but if she had, she would have seen the silent blue explosion that destroyed the entire clearing where the house had stood as she flew back towards home…


	2. Summer Morning

I suppose now is as good a time as any to mention that I do not own anything or anyone that you've ever read in a Harry Potter book.  Otherwise, it's all mine (muahahaha).

~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~

****

Chapter One 

The last day of July opened rather hot and sticky.  A midsummer sunrise was just beginning, but the air was heavy and still.  It promised to be a spectacularly hot end to the month.

Sitting on the white porch swing and lost in her thoughts, Hermione Potter already clutched an ice-laden glass of iced tea, though she had not even sipped it yet.  The glass sweated profusely, leaving wet spots on her light summer robes.  She was far too distracted to take notice, however.  For it was Harry's birthday.

Hermione jumped when a small bird landed on the porch rail and chirped at her.  She turned quickly towards the door, as if expecting Harry to come bursting out of it to join her.  His tall form didn't appear on the other side of the screen; the door remained closed.

Finally discovering the puddle on her front, Hermione disgustedly set the iced tea onto a nearby table and pulled her legs up onto the swing so she was sitting more comfortably.  Fully prepared to zone out again, she was surprised to see an owl flying towards the house.  Owls rarely delivered to the Potters.  Besides an occasional chatty letter from Ron, a rare note from Sirius, or infrequent messages from her parents, owls never had reason to stop.  Hermione even chose to bring the Daily Prophet home with her from work rather than have it delivered.

For a moment she wondered if she wasn't mistaken.  There were no other wizard families in the immediate area, but surely someone lived near enough for their post owl to fly over their country house.  It soon became clear to Hermione that whatever message the owl carried _was_ intended for them; the owl was descending as it grew nearer.

Landing at last with a heavy thud on the white washed railing, the owl stumbled, nearly toppling onto her legs.  At the last possible moment, it regained its balance but dropped the letter, which floated down beneath the swing.  Hermione watched the owl take several deep breaths and attempt to ruffle its wilted brown feathers.  It was obviously worse for the wear after a flight in the thick morning air.

Feeling pity as the owl appeared to be preparing to take off, Hermione found herself standing and saying, "Let me get you a drink," as if speaking to a dinner guest.

Looking to be more than a little relieved, the owl gave a soft hoot.  Hermione whisked into the house, procuring a large shallow dish.  She filled it with water from the tap and returned outside, carefully setting it on the shadiest part of the porch.  Finding her wand in an interior pocket of her robes, she pulled it out, aimed it at the dish and murmured "frigidus."  After another look at the wearied bird, she whispered another charm, causing owl-sized fountains of icy water to leap out of the dish.

Hermione returned to her swing and watched the owl play in the water for several minutes, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth.  Thoroughly wet and looking quite rejuvenated, the bird fluttered back to the swing hooting excitedly as it retrieved its dropped mail.  Placing it in the witch's lap, it gave her a look that clearly said "thank you," shook its feathers one more time, and flew off in the direction it had come.

Still grinning amusedly, Hermione turned the letter over in her hands.  Immediately her smile collapsed.  She stared blankly at the writing on the envelope for what felt like an eternity, all thoughts fleeing her mind.  Finally, her trembling hand thrust the letter into the pocket with her wand.  Taking several deep breaths in succession, she leaned back, shutting her eyes to the world and trying to shut her mind as well.

Unbidden - and in fact against her deepest wishes – memories raced to the front of her mind.  She heard hundreds of voices, whispering and laughing, meshing into a huge, vibrant drone and a lonely sobbing echoing through a quiet room.  She felt suddenly warm and cold, delighted and miserable, excited... and absolutely terrified.

She shuddered at this realization and opened her eyes, willing the once unwelcome heat of the morning to touch her again.  Before she had lost her deep, cold feeling however, Hermione realized she was being watched from behind the screen door.

~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~

Thanks! –Carlyn


	3. Shadows

To my 4.2 readers – sorry this chapter has been so long in the making.  I've been working on these crazy Area Foundation scholarships and writing about extracurriculars and why I'm a good representative of my school and community instead of this story, although from time to time Hermione popped into my head to remind me she was still on the porch.  This was a difficult chapter to write anyway, as some other characters seem to want me to write the end before I finish the beginning.  That just won't do.  I hope it's quite decent, really, and meets your expectations.  So a great big hug to Adele, Kat, and Shewhodares for being my only reviewers.  I will thank you properly at the start of the next chapter; you are my saviors!

~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~

Chapter Two 

The door swung slowly on its hinges, eliciting a soft groan.  Lightly, bare feet stepped onto the porch, and though Hermione tried to look up for a good morning smile, her body still felt like a dead weight.  Even her eyes did not lift from the spot on the floor where they were focused.

"Are you all right?"

At the soft-spoken words, the woman's spirits raised a little.  She looked up and put on a small smile.  "Fine."

"Why is this fountain thing here?"

Remember the exact reason, Hermione's insides grew heavy again.  The bare feet moved across the porch, and moments later, the swing creaked as the other sat.  A few more seconds of silence passed.

"Mum?"  A small hand moved to rest gently on her knee.

"There…was an owl," Hermione murmured, looking to the sky as if expecting to see it above the tree line.

"For…Dad?"

Those words, though hardly voiced, captured the woman's entire attention.  Hermione's head snapped up to meeting searching eyes.

"No," she said simply, dropping her gaze.  A long pause.  "You-"  She hesitated.  "You remembered?"

"Well I wrote it on my calendar just in case, but I can't ever forget – even when I think I want to."

"Oh Jaina."  Hermione lovingly wrapped her arms around her daughter.  "I'm so sorry," she whispered.  "I should have told you a long time ago… when did you figure it out?"

Jaina smiled wryly.  "I heard Uncle Ron say something to you when I was six, but I think I'd know there was something about today anyway.  We always do something special… something magic.  We talk about magic all the time, and we have lots of books on magic, but we never actually go into the magic world except for one day…  and you always cry at least once when you think I'm not watching."

"I do not," Hermione argued as her eyes watered.

"You cried a lot at Uncle Ron's house," the girl pointed out.  "And the next year, you cried about every time Papa Sirius said my name.  When I was eight, we went to that unicorn preserve, and you cried when we pet one."

"Nine?"

"We rented a broom for the day to go flying, and you cried the first time you touched it.  Last year, we took a tour of the Ministry, and I heard you sniffle when you flushed your toilet, and you used the toilet about three times an hour."

"I guess I should give you more credit," the woman allowed, kissing the top of her daughter's head.  

They sat quietly a few minutes more, not pulling apart despite the temperature, growing ever more intense as the morning aged.  Hermione was having a heated internal debate that her daughter could not see, but before she could stop herself she blurted, "Do you ever miss him?"

Jaina pulled out of the embrace, surprised at the abruptness of the question.  She turned around, leaning against the other arm of the swing and looking at her mother.  "I… don't know," she replied sincerely.  "It's hard to miss someone you've never met.  Sometimes I think about him, but I've never even seen his picture.  It's almost like he never even existed, and yet, I see how much _you_ miss him, and I imagine how life would be if he were here and we were a family."  She sighed.  "I've never _had_ a dad, so it's not weird to _not_ have one, but sometimes I feel empty… like something's missing."

The woman stared intently at her daughter.  "I'm sorry, Jaina, that… that I've never talked about him and that the picture albums are hidden.  Some days, it's so hard to believe that he's gone… so hard to not give up.  Today, especially.  I haven't kept you from the wizarding world for your benefit, but for mine.  It's hard to see friends and family and people that loved your dad, hard to see them going on with life when I still feel like it's been minutes since I found out…"

Jaina took a few deep breaths, willing herself to ask the question she'd been dying to know the answer to for eleven years.  "How… how…"  She took another gulp of air.  "How?"  She could not break the gaze between herself and her mother, try as she might.  Jaina was at once desperate for and terrified of the reply.

"No one knows, not for sure…  It was August, nearly eleven years ago; we'd spent the past two years working as Aurors for the ministry, tracking the last of the Death Eaters after Voldemort's final defeat.  There were only a handful left, and conveniently, they were all in the same place.  We tracked them down and infiltrated the safe house…  They sent out decoys to weaken us…"  Hermione paused, fighting her better judgement in order to continue reliving the painful memory for her daughter who was looking at her with wide eyes.

"Then, just when we thought we'd won, Lucius Malfoy…"  She shuddered.  "He rose up off the ground.  He tried to kill me, but Harry got me out of the way.  Just in time, he put up a shield around us… the other wizards began their attack… they were some of the strongest.  Voldemort's greatest, the last.  Your dad told me to run… he – he knew what to do.  I left."

She stopped, letting Jaina take in her words.  After what felt like an eternity, the girl tentatively asked, "Then what?"

"I don't know.  There was some kind of explosion.  The best the ministry could come up with was that it was a combination of complex and powerful spells.  They managed to destroy the magic surrounding the house, and disapparated.  Most likely, the spells destroyed the shield and either instantly killed or seriously injured your dad, and when it all blew up…"

Jaina closed her eyes, the actual tale somehow far worse than anything she'd ever imagined.  "Sometime… could I see where he's buried?"

"He's not…  They never found him, not a trace.  He was wearing my wedding ring on a chain, and they didn't even find slivers of gold in the rubble.  The entire house was a pile of ash that could fit in a teacup…  Sometimes I think it would be easier, if I'd seen his body, if he were buried.  I manage to convince myself he's not gone… but he is.  He is."

"Thanks…" the girl whispered, "for telling me."

Hermione grimaced.  "I should have told you a long time ago.  When I found out I was pregnant with you, I promised you that you wouldn't have to grow up like your dad did, never knowing anything about his family… and then I did it to you anyway.  I _promise, _from now on, whatever you want to know, just ask.  Or if I think of something, I'll tell you about it.  I'll even pull out the photo albums when we get back."

"Back?" Jaina gaped for a moment.  "Oh, I'd almost forgotten.  Where are we off to today?"

"We're going to watch your dad's Quidditch team play.  Hurry up and put on a robe and some shoes; I've got a portkey in the kitchen."

The girl rose, kissed her mum on the cheek, and entered the house.  She could no longer contain her excitement at seeing her first-ever Quidditch game.  Breaking into a huge grin, she dashed through the entryway, up the flight of stairs, and down the hall to her room.  Jaina slid on her favorite pair of sandals and slipped a light blue robe on over her clothes.  After a moment of thought, she pulled her much-read copy of Quidditch Through the Ages off the bookshelf.  She turned to go back downstairs, but paused for a moment, wondering.  The young girl felt like nothing had really changed on this extraordinary morning, but even as she pulled her door shut behind her, Jaina knew that somehow, nothing would ever be the same.

~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~

Hope you like it! –Carlyn


	4. Quidditch and Letters

All right, so here it is: the long-awaited Chapter 3! *Applause*  Okay, so I know that really, there are like exactly two people who even remotely care, but that's beside the point.  I know I promised proper a proper thank you to my lovely, beautiful, wonderful, compassionate, encouraging, and all around great reviewers, but as it's now past midnight, my bed is crying out for me, and I for it.  Hope you enjoy!

~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^

The existence of other witches and wizards in large numbers outside of books had always seemed a bit unreal to Jaina.  Yet here she was, surrounded by men, women, and children, all wearing robes and chatting excitedly about quaffles and Beaters.  She sat a full ten minutes totally ignoring the pitch, simply taking in the crowd.  

When she at last turned back to see her mum, Hermione was watching the warm-ups through a pair of old Ominoculars; although Jaina thought they were plenty close to see without them.  She pulled the Ominoculars her mum bought for her out of the sack.  Looking at them with a "How can this possibly make this any better?" expression, she hesitantly raised them to her eyes.

"Wow!" she whispered.

Jaina spent the rest of the pre-game time studying each member of the team going through his or her moves.  She had always loved reading about Quidditch; she'd long thought it was the best sport ever.  Hardest for her to believe was that it could be so much better than a book.  One last time Jaina watched each player carefully.  A question burned the tip of her tongue, but she thought she might have exhausted the limit of questions about her dad she was allowed in one day.

"What is it, Jaina?"

"What is what?"

Hermione laughed.  "You look like there's something you're just dying to know."

Jaina dropped her gaze.  She wanted to know, but she didn't particularly want to ask.  Until this morning, her dad had been comfortably imaginary.  The more she talked and thought about him, the more real he seemed.  The empty part of her began to ache.

Her mum sighed.  "You know, the Cannons were the worst team in the league for a century.  The Department of Magical Games and Sports was on the verge of dismantling them all together.  It fired the entire team and advertised to start an entirely new one… and almost failed.  Your dad could have played for any team he wanted.  No one ever _dreamed_ he'd choose Chudley, but he signed up just days before the department was going to have a hearing about its fate.  Ron was so distraught about his team getting knocked off that your dad later told me it was the easiest decision he'd ever made.  He wanted Ron's team to be the best because it was 'so rare that he got anything that was the best.'  

"The old Gryffindor captain, Oliver Wood moved from Puddlemere to play with him again, as did Fred and George Weasley… and others followed, suddenly flocking to play for the Cannons.  He only played one game.  One game… They won spectacularly.  Suddenly your dad was famous all over again.  Everyone credited him for saving the team.  I still remember the look on his face when he saw the headlines.  He hated the attention, and it always seemed magnetized to him anyway.

"There was an incredible party that night – you'd think they won the World Cup or something.  As we were leaving, Dumbledore showed up looking _old_, older than I'd ever seen him and asking to talk to us.  Harry and I agreed to become Aurors that night… He never played Quidditch again."

Jaina couldn't look away from her mum's transfixed face; she looked like she'd give anything to be watching that match now.

"Was he quite good?"

Hermione grinned.  "Some say he was the best Seeker ever.  He could have played for England.  We'd have won the cup, probably more than once.  Not that I'm biased."

_Seeker._ Somehow she knew already.  Somehow, watching the seeker had felt so right, so _perfect_.  Her heart gave a jolt as she realized she could be watching her father up there.  Someone to kiss her mum after the match and carry her on his shoulders to see the rest of the team.

Before her thoughts could carry her away much farther, she felt her mum's hand on her shoulder.

"Look," Hermione breathed, wide eyes looking to the announcement board at one end of the pitch.

The girl followed her line of vision, feeling herself freeze as she read the message scrawled on the screen.

"Happy birthday, Harry Potter.  We miss you."

It didn't take long before the crowd had fallen into a profound silence, staring at the words as one.  She heard a sob to her left and took her mum's hand in her own without looking away from the screen.  Her eyes were held firm by the simplicity of the message and the depth of emotion conveyed by the crowd.  As the words slowly faded to nothing, people moved as if in a dream.  Slowly, conversations started up again, quietly at first but progressing relatively quickly back to their original dull roar. 

Hermione continued weeping quietly in her chair, her daughter's hand slid into her own.

"Did you do that?" Jaina asked quietly, unsettled by the never-ending surprises this day had brought so far.  

Her mum shook her head slowly, sniffling and rubbing at her eyes in an attempt to regain composure.  "I don't think you understand yet just how important your father was to… to everyone.  He was The Boy Who Lived and who saved the world and brought back a Quidditch team and who gave up his career to go back to saving the world.  He was a hero, in every sense of the word.  A lot of people remember…  Anyone could have done that: the team, a friend, or just a random everyday person he never knew.  It's so hard to say."  
            "Are you going to be all right, mum?"

"Yeah, just had to get my cry of the day out of the way."

Jaina grinned.  "You made a rhyme."

"I do that all the time."

The two traded glances before helplessly bursting into giggles that would last until the very start of the game.

*                      *                      *                      *                      *                      *                      *                      *

Jaina leaned forward in her seat, Ominoculars pressed into her face.  She watched the referee open the box containing the quaffle, bludgers, and snitch as the announcer finished introducing the last Magpies' player.  Each team got into formation in the center.  Jaina focused in on the Chudley Seeker, someone by the name of Spencer.  His lips were pursed in concentration, his eyes squinting as he looked from his position down into the box.

"Good luck," the girl murmured a moment before the referee threw the quaffle in the air and the match began.

The Magpies got off to an early lead, gaining first possession and scoring the first goal.  Unprepared for the sudden assault, the Cannons' Keeper, a young woman whose name Jaina missed, put a little too much enthusiasm into her dive and shot past the quaffle before it entered the hoop.

Hermione made a sound of adverse surprise as the ten points for the Magpies went on the scoreboard.  Her daughter pulled the Ominoculars away, watching her for a minute.  She'd have never thought her mum would be so into the game, seeing as how Jaina had inherited her voracious appetite for books.  Wondering whether her mum had always loved Quidditch or if she had grown to love it because of her father, Jaina missed the second, third, and fourth goals of the game and subsequently nearly dropped her Ominoculars when she looked up to check the score and found it 40-0.

"Yikes."

"The Keeper's a little nervous," Hermione informed her daughter without looking away from the game.  "I think she's new."

Jaina put the Ominoculars back to her eyes.  It was apparent to her by the frustration she could easily read on the faces of the Cannons' Chasers that they hadn't touched the quaffle yet.  Again the ball slipped past the Keeper, and in her state of nerves, she tossed it, hardly looking, into the grip of the Montrose Chaser who'd just finished scoring.  

The girl had just begun to lose hope about the outcome of the game when one of the orange-clad Chasers managed to wrestle the quaffle away from his opposing player.  Like one player the three moved across the field, the red leather ball hardly staying in one's hands longer than a few moments.  Dodging Beaters, bludgers, and Chasers, they moved towards the goal hoops.  Hardly pausing, the female Chaser farthest from Jaina fired the quaffle – which had only just reached her grip – through the center hoop.  The Magpies' Keeper wore an expression of pure _bafflement_, the girl was amused to notice.  It'd been more than a few seconds since he lost track of the quaffle, handled expertly by the opposing team.

Not to be outdone, the opposing Chasers sped back across the pitch, moving confidently, though Jaina privately thought, not as wonderfully as the Cannons had just looked.  The young girl grimaced, thinking of the Keeper guarding the team's hoops, but this time, she looked set.  Her hands gripped the handle of her broomstick firmly but loosely, maintaining the control needed to fly but ready to reach up and grab the ball when it came to her.

The opposing Chaser did not notice this, however, as he sped toward her, clearly expecting no resistance.  After all, she had not stopped them before.  He stopped suddenly, tossing the Quaffle in a blur of red to his teammate on the left who promptly fired at the nearest hoop.  The Keeper, just a flash of orange, dove.  

"It's ano- _save_!  She saved it!" the announcer screamed, sounding elated.

Jaina watched avidly as the Cannons at last joined the game, pulling ahead 100-60 in no time.  Suddenly she saw a sparkle of gold in the corner of her vision.  Centering and focusing her Ominoculars on it, her heart started to pound.  _It was the snitch_.  It fluttered around the bottom of the Magpies' goalposts for a while before disappearing.  Wildly, she scanned the playing field.  There it was again, hiding near the bristles of a Cannon Beater's broom.  

The girl soon forgot about everything going on around her except the snitch.  She lost it, found it, lost it, and found it over and over again.  It was mesmerizing, watching the golden winged ball travel all over the pitch.  Finally around the tenth time she relocated it, this time right in the middle of the far Cannons' hoop, she heard the crowd give a collective gasp.  Widening the focus, Jaina saw the Chudley Seeker speeding towards the goalposts.

"He's seen it," she said aloud in a breathless voice.  

The other seeker had seen it too, but he was much farther and much later.  Before he'd managed to make up half the distance to his opponent, the snitch was in the Cannons' Seeker's hand.

Giving an ecstatic cry, the girl jumped out of her seat in joy.  

"The Cannons win by a score of 390-120!" the announcer yelled over the deafening cheers of the crowd.  Jaina couldn't wipe the silly grin off her face.  This had been the best day _ever_.

"Wasn't that great I found the snitch way before he did and I was so happy he caught it and it was a lot cooler than in my Quidditch books even though I really like them and mom," Jaina at last paused to take a breath.  "This was _the_ best idea."

Hermione grinned at her daughter, pleased that the day had been such a success.  She wrapped a loving arm around the girl as they walked over to a ministry wizard standing near the gates.

"Hello, Hermione," he greeted with a smile while fishing an old newspaper out of the box at his feet.  "This'll go off in," he checked his watch, "five minutes.  Drop you off right in your front yard."  
            "Thank you, Dean."

The man was no longer looking at her, however.  He'd dropped to a crouch and was shaking Jaina's hand, saying, "You must be Lillian."

The girl made a face.  "Everyone calls me Jaina," she informed him and then added as an afterthought, "Sir."

"Everyone calls me Dean," he mimicked with a wink at her.  "Nice to meet you at last."

Jaina smiled at him but felt secretly relieved when her mum said farewell and guided her out the gate to an open area of the lawn.  Various witches and wizards were now disapparating, while those with children were either walking out onto the moor or waiting with portkeys like they were.  

She looked up at her mum, a question suddenly occurring to her.  "Mum, why-"

Before she could finish, a hook jerked behind her navel.  Her hand stuck to the newspaper she had been touching as the two of them lifted of the ground and spun, not stopping until Jaina felt her feet slam into the ground.  For a moment, she thought her legs would hold her up, but she was so dizzy that it was impossible.  Toppling onto the ground, she stared up at the sky until the trees within her vision stopped swirling around her.

Hermione offered her a hand up.  "You were saying?"

Jaina looked at her mum blankly for a moment.  "Oh, right.  Why did that wizard know me?  How did he know my name was Lillian?"

"Remember how I told you your dad was famous?"

"Mmm hmm."

"Well, in a way that makes you famous too.  For being his daughter.  It was all over the papers when you were born."

Jaina felt her mouth fall open.  "So everyone knows me?"

"Well, not really.  Dean knew who you were because you were with me, but most people won't know you on your own.  Even fewer will call you Jaina."

"Because my name is Lillian Jane, after dad's parents."

"Right."  Hermione led her daughter up the porch steps and into the house.  "Do you still want to look at photos or would you rather head up to bed?"

Jaina looked shocked, "Are you kidding?"

Minutes later, the mother and daughter were pouring over photo albums in Hermione's study off of the living room.  

"This is your dad, Ron, and me with Hagrid, Hogwarts gamekeeper.  I think it was our… second year."

Studying the dark haired, green-eyed boy and the girl that would become her mum carefully, Jaina remarked quietly, "I look nothing like him, do I?"  She could not quite hide her disappointment at this revelation.

"Unfortunately, you're a bit of a carbon copy of me," Hermione told her daughter with a fond smile, "but you're a lot like him too."

Cuddling in closer to her mum, the girl said, "_Really_?  How?"

"I could name a thousand ways, but mostly his smile.  And his eyes."

"But he had green eyes."

"I know.  I can't explain it, really."

They continued in silence through the albums until the last was placed on top of the pile.  

Hermione glanced at the clock.  "You'd best get to bed."

Jaina's eyes searched her mum's.  "Do you think we could look through them one more time?"

"Tomorrow.  They're not going to go away.  You may look at them whenever you like, love."  She leaned down and kissed her daughter on top of her head.  "Goodnight."

The girl returned the kiss.  "Goodnight mum.  Thank you for the Quidditch game… and the photos.  I love you."

"I love you too."

Jaina stood and walked across the room, her mind overflowing with a multitude of thoughts about Quidditch, strangers who knew her, and Harry Potter.  A man with her last name, her eyes, and her smile.  Her father.  

Reaching out mechanically to turn the doorknob, she was startled by her mother saying, "Jaina, wait."  
            The girl turned, curious.  Hermione hesitated, not entirely sure what made her speak when she had not been planning to mere seconds ago.  She fingered something in her pocket.  This movement did not escape her daughter's attention.

"What is it, mum?"

"The letter."

"What letter?"  Jaina was concerned by her mum's peculiar behavior.

"The letter that came this morning…"  Her voice faded as she struggled to say the words.

Hermione took a deep breath.  "It was for you."

~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^

Please review, -Carlyn


	5. Diagon Alley

Wow, I am ashamed at my three-month hiatus from this story.  To all of you still reading I dedicate sentimental songs of love and devotion and praise.  And in honor of it's return from the depths, this chapter is about 67x longer than I thought it would be.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The morning of August 31 began with Jaina unable and unwilling to believe it had actually arrived.  It was too soon for an entire month to have passed since her dad's birthday and falling in love with Quidditch.  Since seeing her mother in photo albums looking happier than Jaina had ever known her, her father for the first time.  Since being invited to Hogwarts.

As had become a bit of a routine, her eyes slid first to the calendar tacked up to the wall, which indeed proclaimed the date to be the thirty-first of August.  She then looked over to the two envelopes laying on her nightstand.  A few weeks ago, she'd have read them, but they had long since been memorized.  The first was her acceptance letter and school list; the second envelope held confirmation of her reply and her train ticket, dated September 1.  Tomorrow.

She rose, deep in thought and heard the sound behind her that meant the bed was remaking itself.  "My calendar must be wrong."

"You know it's not," came a reply in a very familiar voice, "and pretending it is won't change anything."

Jaina turned, looking unsurprised to see a girl who appeared as Jaina wished she did - bright green eyes, silky hair, and less of a tomboyish air about her – sitting on her bed.  _Her_ hair was what her mum called "curly" and she called "tumbleweed."

She very carefully kept her back to the girl for several minutes before saying, "Tomorrow at this time, I'll find out I've been having an especially strange dream."

"No," the girl replied pointedly, "you will be at King's Cross Station, getting ready to leave for Hogwarts."

There was a long pause before the girl continued, "Try not to be so excited about it."

Jaina sighed and faced her at last.  "Why am I so bothered about this?"

"Isn't it obvious?  You don't want to leave your mum."

She threw up her arms.  "Well, _should_ I?  I don't want her to be lonely."

The girl leaned forward so that she was nearly standing instead of sitting on the bed.  "Don't confuse lonely with _alone_, Jane.  Your mum has always been lonely, well, as long as you've known her, anyway."

"I know, Lil," she replied, pulling the chair out from her desk and sitting on it, "but at least she's had me to keep her company.  And I'm sure she's qualified enough to teach me magic here.  Then I wouldn't have to abandon her."

Smiling empathetically, Lil continued, "Maybe, maybe not, but in the same way that you've seen your mum's loneliness, she has recognized yours.  She wants _you_ to have friends and be happy, and if that means she's alone, she's prepared herself to let you go."

"What if I don't _want to be let go?" Jaina asked, realizing that she sounded about five years old.  "What if I don't make friends?  I mean, I haven't had any practice.  Maybe there's a book-"_

"Stop being silly; there are plenty of books.  But I promise you won't need them.  Everyone worries about making friends when they go to a new place.  Your mum told you about how she worried about making friends when she first went, but then she found your dad and Ron.  And your dad had never had a friend before Hogwarts; he met his best friends on the train there.  Things will work out just fine."

"But if they don't, you'll be there, right?  I mean, you are coming too?"

The girl laughed.  It sounded exactly like Jaina's, so much so that she had to check to make sure she wasn't actually the one laughing.

"Stop it!  I hate when you do that," she said, scowling.

Lil stopped but grinned at her as if trying very hard not to burst out again.  "For someone so smart, you can be pretty thick sometimes.  Of _course I'm going with you, though I daresay between your new friends and schoolwork, you may find you don't need me.  But if you do, I'll be there.  There's nowhere you can go that you can't bring me along."_

"Good… but you know, I've been thinking maybe I won't be going after all?"

Lil raised an eyebrow.  "I can't wait to hear this.  Why's that?"

"Well, I don't _have_ anything.  I suppose we have the spell books I need around here somewhere, but I also need a cauldron, wand, and robes, among other things.  I'm supposed to leave tomorrow; how will I find it all in one day?"

"That I cannot answer.  You should ask your mum."

"Right."

"Well, have a good day.  I'll be around next time you need me to tell you things you already know."

"Sod off."

"Don't let your mum hear you saying that."

Jaina had been studying the contents of her dresser during Lil's last comment but didn't need to turn around to know the other girl was no longer in the room.  She dressed meticulously, apprehensive about bringing up the topic of Hogwarts with her mum.  They'd been fairly open about the subject at first.  Her mum told her stories, and she listened wide-eyed and attentive.  Jaina found a copy of _Hogwarts, A History_ on a shelf, and they discussed interesting details over dinner.  It only lasted about a week before she sensed her mum's eyes clouding whenever the school was mentioned, and though she'd not given any other indication that she was uncomfortable talking about it, that had been enough to stem the flow of Jaina's thoughts and questions.

The idea of bringing up schoolbooks and cauldrons and wands at the breakfast table was settling uncomfortably in her stomach as she buttoned up her blouse and slowly made her way to the door, turning back only once to grab a light summer robe and satisfy an afterthought.  Trudging down the stairs, she picked up on the familiar breakfast scents of toast and coffee, which helped lift her spirits a little.  There was something very comfortable about breakfast that made it very hard to dread a conversation with her mum.

Hermione smiled brightly as her daughter entered the kitchen and was rewarded with one very similar in feature and intensity and a quick hug.  She leaned down and kissed Jaina on the forehead, spotting the robes still clutched in one fist as she straightened.

"Good," she commented, nodding at them, "we won't have to waste any time sending you back up for them."

Furrowing her eyebrows and giving her mum a look that surely spoke of confusion, Jaina questioned, "Are we going somewhere?"

Passing her a plate of toast and egg, Hermione nodded.  "You surely didn't think I was going to send you off to Hogwarts without your school supplies?"

The expression on her daughter's face clearly said that's exactly what she thought, and so she continued quickly, "We're going to Diagon Alley."

"Where's that?" Jaina wondered, finally finding her voice.

"London," Hermione replied, joining the girl at the table.

She worked this over in her mind for several minutes while chewing her toast.  "But we've been to London before.  I don't recall any magical shops."

The corners of her mum's mouth twitched into a smile.  "We've never been there before.  It's a little… out of the way."

"Oh."  Jaina felt like asking one or all of the million questions that had just occurred to her, but instead settled for shoveling down the rest of her toast as fast as she possibly could.  That accomplished, she threw her dishes in the sink, thrust her arms into the robes, and sat impatiently back down, watching her mum deliberately sip her coffee, eyes twinkling in amusement.

When her mum got up to clear her place from the table, Jaina moved to stand in the doorway, but was surprised to see Hermione pick up what appeared to be a flowerpot from the windowsill.

"We're going by Floo Powder?"  The girl could hardly suppress the excitement in her voice.  She'd seen her mum travel daily to and from work through the fireplace for years, but had never actually been allowed to do it before.

"Yes, you're quite old enough now.  I would have taken you on your first Floo trip to the Quidditch game, but there weren't any grates at the stadium.  I'm glad now it didn't work out.  This is much better."

Jaina followed her mum to the fireplace and watched her light a magical fire with her wand.  She felt the first twinge of anxiety as she took a handful of the powder and, at her mum's bidding, threw it in the flames.

"Would you like to go first?" Hermione asked, placing a hand on her daughter's back.

Eyes wide, the girl frantically shook her head and tried to take several steps back but only succeeded in one before her mother gently pushed her forward.

"It's fine," she intoned quietly.  "I'll go ahead, but you have to promise to follow.  Don't forget to take some more powder."

"Right.  Okay.  I just want to, er, watch-watch you do it."  Jaina realized she was talking much too fast and wondered if her mum understood one word she'd just said.

Glancing uneasily at the girl, Hermione stepped confidently into the fire, stated "Diagon Alley," and vanished.

Jaina swallowed hard and stared, transfixed, at the flames.  

"Your mum will worry."

In her peripheral vision, she saw Lil watching her from an armchair nearby.  "Don't be silly," she continued.  "You've seen her travel by Floo a million times before.  She wouldn't let you do it if it weren't safe.  Besides, it's not like real fire."

The girl nodded quickly, feeling as if her head was about to come unattached from her body.  

"You're right," she agreed, taking a step forward and throwing another handful of Floo Powder in.  "It's not _real _fire.  It's _not_ real fire."

Jaina talked herself all the way into the grate.  Her confidence improved greatly when she didn't burst into flames instantaneously.  She debated between keeping her eyes open to see whatever was about to happen and closing them so she wouldn't have to see what was about to happen.  In the end, she shut them tightly, pressed her arms up against her sides, and said firmly, "Diagon Alley."

Thoughts of ever opening her eyes fled as she spun wildly.  The roar of wind in her ears was deafening, increasing in volume for a brief _zing_ every few seconds that Jaina guessed must be other grates.  After an indeterminable length of time, icy hands slapped her face, causing her to yelp, and just when she thought the trip would never end, she fell to the ground in a heap.

A pair of hands she knew were her mother's lifted her up and began to brush her off.  She opened her eyes to her mum's bright grin fixed on her.

"How was it?"

"All right."  Now that her stomach had settled, Jaina realized that she hadn't really minded it so much.  She smiled, dusted the last of the soot from her robes, and had a look around.

They seemed to be in a building devoted strictly to Floo travel.  Only one room as far as she could tell since there was only one door, it was large and open with sparsely occupied chairs sitting back to back all the way up the middle.  The grate she had arrived in was behind her, and a matching one sat against the opposite wall.  A sign hung above either half of the room.  The one above them read, "Arrivals;" the other proclaimed "Departures."  At the desk opposite the door sat a middle-aged wizard with an enormous pot of what could only be Floo powder.

Utterly fascinated, Jaina jumped when Hermione gently steered her by the elbow towards the door.

"There's much more to see," she promised as she pulled open the door.  

The girl didn't know where to look first.  She could have never dreamed such a place existed.  Shops - _wizard _shops - lined the narrow alley.  As they walked, she tried to look everywhere at once.  Quidditch, books, owls, cauldrons, ice cream.  

"I'm glad I waited to bring you," her mum was saying.  "Once Hogwarts letters go out in July, Diagon Alley is swarmed with students and teachers until about a week before term starts.  Today everything is much quieter.  Oh, look!  There's Gringotts.  We won't be going in today.  Perhaps next time."

They stopped in front of Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.  Her mum handed her a pouch, which, judging by the clinking noises it made, was full of money. 

"I won't be much help to you in here," Hermione told her.  "Go on in and get your robes.  I'll take care of your cauldron, potions supplies, parchment, quills, and ink.  Once you're done, meet me next door at Flourish and Blott's."

"All right."  Jaina watched her mum stroll up the alley and enter the cauldron shop.  She stood staring at the door for several minutes before realizing that she must look like an idiot and tentatively pushing the door open.

A short, plump witch smiled cheerfully from behind the counter.  "Hogwarts, dear?" she queried.  At the girl's nod, her smile spread wider.  "I'd thought we were all done for the summer," she chattered, leading Jaina to an area in the back.

She stepped up onto a stool.  As Madame Malkin measured her, she kept up a lively stream of conversation.

"I don't recall seeing you before.  Is it your first time?"

"Yes," she replied, deciding that she very much liked the jovial and grandmotherly Madame Malkin.

"It's so nice to be able to chat with you," Madame bubbled, pinning up a hem.  "I'm normally _so_ busy during the summer.  What's your name dear?"

"Jaina," she answered and added, as an afterthought, "Potter."

Madame Malkin looked suddenly like she'd just swallowed a pin.  Her eyes stared at Jaina's forehead for an unnaturally long time.  Neither of them moved or made a sound for several minutes.  Then, as if snapping out of a dream, the witch jumped back into action, finishing the girl's robes quickly and silently.

Unnerved, Jaina rubbed her forehead distractedly as she carried her newly purchased robes into the bookstore, where her mum was dropping several books into a new, black cauldron.  She smiled at the first sight of her daughter but then glanced at her, puzzled.

"Is there something wrong with your forehead?" she wondered, taking the package.

"I don't _think_ so, but it entranced Madame Malkin.  She kept staring."

A small smile crossed her mum's face as she pulled Jaina's hand away from where it had been stroking.  "Your forehead is fine, and I ought to give Madame Malkin more credit.  I never guessed she would recognize you."

"She didn't.  She asked my name.  But anyway, what does all of this have to do with my _forehead?"_

Hermione glanced around the shop before leaning down conspiratorially, but instead of answering, she gently placed the tip of her finger against Jaina's skin and traced a zigzag on her forehead.

She stared into her mum's face feeling very confused.  Then it dawned on her, or rather, struck her… like lightning.

"Oh, right."  She glanced uneasily around the shop.  "Mum, people are… looking at us."

Hermione sighed, lifted the cauldron, and led her across the store to the counter where they paid for the books.  

"Recognition," she told her as they reentered the alley, "is something you'll have to get used to.  At first, probably only if people know your name, but as you get older, I'm sorry to say," she grinned widely, "that you'll probably look just like me.  I know right now it seems odd.  In a year or two, it probably won't even faze you.  Just take as much as you can in stride and wait it out."

"I can do that," Jaina said, noticing for the first time that they were stopped outside of Ollivander's, Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.  She felt her grin spreading; she'd been waiting eagerly for this since she'd first seen the shop, and she didn't need to be invited to open the door.

Inside, the air was thin and still.  The light distilled as it entered the shop from the front window causing the shop to be rather dark for the bright sunny day happening outside.  Through the dim light, Jaina could see shelves piled high with thin boxes.  She approached the counter slowly, but before she reached it, an old man appeared from around a corner.  His silvery eyes focused on her immediately, and before he'd even come into the main part of the shop, he greeted her.  

"Miss Potter, I thought this might be the year I'd be seeing you."

"You know me?" 

"Of course," he drawled with a smile, "you look just like your mother at that age.  Maple and unicorn hair, ten and three quarters inches.  Great for charms."

Jaina was just trying to decide if the wand maker fancied her mum when he continued, "I remember _every_ wand I've ever sold, Miss Potter, and now it's your turn."

He began browsing the shelves, mumbling to himself.  The girl turned to look at her mum, who gave her an encouraging nod and smile.

Mr. Ollivander returned, opening the box he carried and handing her a wand.  "Willow and phoenix feather, eleven and a half inches."

And so began the long and surprisingly arduous task of finding the right wand.  At first, Mr. Ollivander would hand one to her, she'd give it a wave, and he'd take it back.  Now, she'd hardly touch it before he'd murmur, "No, no," and put it away.  After what must have been the _hundredth_ wand, he paused and smiled brightly at her as if he were having a wonderful time, which Jaina suspected he was.

"Your parents were very difficult customers, too," he informed her delightedly, nodding to her mum.  "Your father especially took some time to find his wand.  Find I say, but the wand really found him.  The wand chooses the wizard, after all, Miss Potter.  Yes, yes it does.  In the end, he favored something a bit more _unique._"

Mr. Ollivander disappeared again.  Jaina wished she could go sit down with her mum.  Her arm ached from waving so many wands around, and while the wand maker clearly hadn't had this much fun in years, she was getting very discouraged.

When he returned, he carried not one box but five.  "These," he said ominously, "are the most unusual wand combinations I carry.  Let's see if you are destined for one of them."

The first, cherry and phoenix feather, was a definite no, but as Mr. Ollivander opened the second box, Jaina's heart began to beat faster.  She felt lightheaded, and his voice saying, "Holly and unicorn hair, twelve inches even," sounded far away.  Her fingers had barely touched the wood when a burst of heat traveled up the length of her arm and through her body.  She didn't have to wave the wand to know it was the one, but with a sweep of her arm, brilliant blue and gold sparks showered down around them, causing the inside of the shop to brighten considerably.

Mr. Ollivander smiled a bit ruefully as though sad the search had ended.  "I must say, you haven't disappointed me in the least.  This is one of only three unicorn and holly wands I have seen in my lifetime, Miss Potter, and the oldest wand in this shop.  May it serve you well."

Her mum paid for her wand, and they left.  For only having visited three stores, Jaina was exhausted.  Being here made her feel vulnerable, even with her mum by her side.  She was tired of the stares and the whispers and the few bold enough to point.

"Is there anything else?" she inquired, hearing the fatigue in her voice.

"Just an animal… if you want one."

The girl felt a hint of her second wind.  "Could I get an owl?"

Hermione gave her a one-armed hug.  "That's just what I was hoping you'd say."

They had hardly walked in the door to Eeylops Owl Emporium when Jaina spotted the owl she wanted.  She walked twice around the shop just in case, but in the end came back to the beautiful barn owl in the back corner.  She turned to tell her mum about her choice and was startled not to see her.  Wanting to find her but not wanting to leave her owl now that she'd found it, she was relieved when the clerk approached her until she started talking to her.

"Is this the one you've chosen, Miss Potter?"

She was sure that the woman had wandered into the path of a stray sonorous charm, she talked so loud.  Other customers stopped in the midst of what they were doing and craned their necks to see her.

"Yes," she replied feeling her cheeks flush red and burn and fighting the sudden desire to flee.

The clerk brought down the owl and cage from where it had been hanging.  "Your mother is waiting for you at the counter."

Reluctantly, she followed the abnormally loud witch to the front where she was surprised to see her mum place a tawny owl up onto the counter. 

"Mum?"

Hermione smiled down at her daughter.  "I wanted your owl to be able to stay with you at school, so I figured I'd better get one so I can send you things whenever I want."

Jaina grinned.  This was a very good explanation as well as a comforting thought.  They exited Eeylops, now very laden with all of her school things and the two owls.  She was stunned when her mum opened both cages, and their owls flew away.

Her jaw must have been scraping the pavement, because Hermione quickly said, "Don't worry.  They'll find their way home easily.  Shall we?"

They made their way back to the Floo building, and this time Jaina had no qualms about going first, even with both cages.  Her mum followed with the cauldron full of various supplies and the robes, and both owls turned up over dinner.  All in all, the girl felt it had been a _very _good day.

Except for the parts that hadn't been so great.  Hours after she should have been asleep, Jaina couldn't get over the unsettled feeling she'd gotten from being out in the real world, exposed.  She felt nauseous when it occurred to her that she'd be doing the same thing again in a few hours… and without her mum by her side.

The girl was out of bed and padding up the hallway before she'd actually made a conscious decision to do so.  She hadn't crawled into her mum's bed for many years, but tonight she wanted only to be held and to have her mum promise she wouldn't have to go in the morning.

Hermione was startled to feel the small body of her daughter slide under the sheets and into her arms.  "Jaina?" she asked aloud, concerned.

"Do you mind if I stay?"

Jaina could see her smile in the darkness of the room.  "Not at all.  It'll be a sleepover for our last night, eh?"

"No… do you mind if I _stay_?  If I don't go to school tomorrow?"

"What?  Why?"

The girl pulled herself more tightly to her mum.  "I know I said I'd try to get used to the recognition, but I'm-I'm scared of it.  I don't want everyone to know me when I don't know anyone at all.  I feel so _vulnerable_, like I can't even protect myself."

Not for the first time, Hermione perceived that her daughter was really an adult trapped in a child's body.  "Are you up for a walk, Jane?"

"Do I have to get dressed?"

Hermione began talking as soon as they were out the door, her daughter's hand possessively holding her own.  "I learned the Patronus charm in my fifth year from your dad, who had learned it two years before when dementors were stationed around Hogwarts, and he heard his mum being killed whenever they came near him."  She paused, wondering if she'd said too much.  "I'm sure you've read about the Patronus charm."

Jaina thought for a moment.  "It's a protective spell.  Turns dementors back."

"Exactly.  Typically it takes the shape of something that will defend you, an aspect of yourself or of others who you feel will take care of you.  For instance, your dad's was a stag, _his_ father's Animagus form, so he always felt that his dad was looking out for him.

"_Mine_ when I first saw it was an otter.  Your dad said it was because I was unbearably cute and incredibly resourceful, and whenever I saw it, it made me think of him.  When I was lonely or afraid, I would do the charm to see the otter and hear his voice in my head.

"It had never occurred to me that a Patronus could change, but when I performed the charm during the practical part of my NEWT exam, it was no longer an otter.  The exam proctor commented to me that he'd never seen a Patronus that wasn't an animal before, and I was too stunned to say much of anything."

They paused while Hermione hesitated at a fork in the trail and chose the left.

"What was it?" Jaina asked feeling about to explode with curiosity.

"I'm getting to that.  Your dad and I had planned to meet down by the lake that evening, and I was about to burst from waiting all day to tell him about the charms exam. I got there early, and I remember seeing him come up.  His eyes were practically glowing bright green.  He said everything was perfect.  He loved me, and Voldemort was gone.  He said we'd have each other forever without ever having to worry.  

"I told him I had something to show him.  He grinned at me and teased me for having nothing with me except my wand."

Hermione stopped at last in a small clearing in the woods.  Jaina noted a worn stone bench next to the trickling creek.  Her mum dropped her hand and pulled out her wand.  She closed her eyes and seemed to be thinking hard.

"Expecto Patronum."  

The quiet words hardly reached Jaina's ears, but the burst of silvery white light that erupted from her mum's wand was nearly blinding.  A bolt of magical lightning shot straight ahead, traveling in a wide circle around them before fading away.

"Lightning," the girl whispered.  "I should have guessed."

Hermione smiled.  "Lightning.  Your dad had been protecting me since I was eleven years old, but seeing the evidence of it made it very real for the first time to me.  He looked at me; I thought he was going to cry, but instead, he pulled me into his arms."

She sat down, opting for the grass rather than the bench and beckoned her daughter to sit with her, drawing her into a tight embrace.

"He told me, 'Hermione, no matter the distance between us – whether I'm right here by your side or halfway across the world, I will love you more with every breath I take, and I will never stop protecting you because I am only as far away as your heart, and that's where magic comes from.'"

Jaina frowned.  "But now he's gone."

Hermione stroked her daughter's hair.  "He'll never really be gone, not when so many people still love and remember him.  He's still protecting us, Jane.  As long as you keep him in your heart, you'll never be alone.  My Patronus proves that time and time again.  If he were really gone, you'd have seen a little otter running around the clearing tonight.  Do you understand?"

"Yes," Jaina breathed, feeling suddenly sleepy.  "Thanks mum… love you."

"I love you, too, Jaina."

But Jaina didn't hear.  She'd fallen soundly asleep in the security of her mum's arms.  Hermione watched her daughter sleep, the soft light of the stars on her face only adding to the magical quality of the air she'd always felt here, and while she knew they should both be in their beds, it was a long time before her last tear fell and she was able to carry Jaina inside.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It's the summertime and the weather is fine.  I don't know what that has to do with reviewing, but you should do it anyway.  Thanks –Carlyn


End file.
